Bring on the Dead
by xXsynXzackyXloverXx
Summary: Rodrick tries to survive alongside a strange teenage girl, named Teresa during the T-Virus outbreak. Will he survive? Rodrick/OC P.S: Don't read this if you haven't seen Resident Evil 1 and 2. Tessa is Teresa's nickname.
1. Chapter One:Nightmare

**This is _A Diary of a Wimpy Kid_ and _Resident Evil_ movie series crossover and a Rodrick/OC. I don't own either any characters, but Tessa and the ones I make up along the way do. I hope you enjoy! This will have Alice in it at some point, but if not, she'll be in the sequel. I got the idea of the title for the story from the song _March of the Dead_ by _Eyes Set to Kill,_ listento it!  
**

_Lock the doors don't let them in_

_Board it up because our time is slipping and they're not listening_

_Lock the doors don't let them in_

_Board it up so they can't win_

**Bring on the Dead**

**Chapter One : Nightmare**

Rodrick Heffley stirred from a deep slumber to the sound of sirens and screams. He shot up on his place on the couch in the Heffley's living room, where he almost always fell asleep on every night. He caught himself before he could tumble off the couch and onto the floor. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Rodrick stood up, sauntered groggily over to the window and peered out. What he saw when he pulled the curtains back wasn't what he expected. He had to close the curtains multiple times before he could comprehend what was happening outside.

The peaceful middle class suburbia he had lived in for most of his life was in shambles. Neighbors were frantically running every which way to get away from something. Rodrick didn't know what that something was, and he wasn't in the slightest bit eager to find out. Right as he thought this, a group of individuals, which looked like they had been dug straight out of their open graves, came shuffling down the street letting out ravenous moans, this sent shivers down Rodrick's spine.

"What the hell?" Rodrick breathed. He looked around to make sure no one was around. Mrs. Heffley didn't take to cussing in the house, neither did Mr. Heffley. His eyebrow rose in confusion. That was odd. The last time he had checked, his mother was home.

Rodrick had stayed home from school today after faking a cold, which his parents fell for. Susan Heffley is a stay at home mother, who most of the time spends her days cooking, cleaning and looking after Rodrick and his two younger brothers, Greg and Manny. Frank Heffley is a businessman and is gone for most of the day.

Turning back to the window, Rodrick remembered something from his hazy mind. Mrs. Heffley had left to get a few groceries a few hours ago. His mother had brought Manny with her. Even if Rodrick seemed hard and uncaring, he feared for his mother, father and two little brothers' safety. Greg, the middle oldest was currently at school.

Outside, it was total chaos. Rodrick caught a glimpse of a woman being drug down by three of those things. She let out a high-pitched cry of terror, knowing she was a goner. These things appeared to be biting the helpless woman as she continued to scream and thrash about on the Heffley's perfectly manicured lawn. Blood spilt from the multiple freshly made bite marks on the woman's skin.

He looked away from the poor unfortunate soul's demise, shaking like a leaf. What had happened to make these people act this way, he thought as he ran a hand through his dark messy brown hair. All of this was too much to take in all at once. Rodrick was finding it hard to maintain his breathing. He found himself self-consciously biting his nails as he turned back to see the group of three feasting on the woman's innards.

Rodrick fought off the urge to vomit.

One, a woman, stuck her mangled filth caked face up, and Rodrick could have sworn she had been looking right in his general vicinity with those sad, dull gray smoky filmed eyes. He moved out of sight into the shadows of the house. Maybe, it was his imagination, but it felt as if that woman, no, that _thing_ out there, had seen him and knew he was there.

He was sure he'd end up hyperventilating and/or passing out, but he wouldn't let himself. Taking a few deep breaths of air, he closed the curtain on the horrific scene outside. He didn't know how much more he could stomach.

Rodrick ran to the front door to make sure it was locked, it was. He did the same to the back door as well. To his misfortune, it wasn't, and one of those things was stumbling toward him, just inside the threshold of the kitchen. In a fit of panic and adrenaline, Rodrick grabbed the first thing he could find, which was a frying pan, and proceeded to take a swing at the dead looking heavyset man's head. He made contact and coagulated gore spattered the kitchen wall and perfectly clean white tiled floor.

Rodrick let out a cry, but kept hitting and hitting, until the man was lying face up on the kitchen floor, unmoving with blood pooling around his head from the beating. The man, the thing or whatever it was _was_ dead for real this time. Tears ran down his tanned cheeks as he pushed the door closed and locked, before any more of those things could get in. He placed the frying pan, which was splattered with coagulated blood and hair, on the kitchen counter.

Walking out of the kitchen, Rodrick fell to his knees on the threshold of the living room floor in a heap of tears. He looked down at his hands, the hands that took a life, he thought as he touched his face to come away with blood on it. Rodrick's eyes widen in horror and revulsion, and quickly ran to the bathroom upstairs.

Once he entered, he looked at his reflection in the mirror above the sink. "What have I done?" Rodrick asked his reflection, rubbing the tears from his eyes and leaving them puffy and red. His throat felt raw from all the crying and he felt the burst of adrenaline fade from his veins. Turning on the faucet, he splashed cold water on his face to rid it of any trace of the _thing _or man's blood, he had put down in the kitchen. The water turned pink as it vanished down the drain.

After turning off the faucet, Rodrick gripped the sides of the sink in distress. He then, noticed his shirt, which he was wearing was spattered with blood. He pulled himself out of it and threw it down on the bathroom floor. From this floor of the house, he could hear the echoes of guns going off and more yelling. The sound of a helicopter hovered overhead could be heard throughout the house.

Rodrick put his hands over his ears to keep it out. His attempts were futile.

This is a** nightmare**. He thought closing shut his eyes, tightly.

And there was no way out, but death itself.

**Two Months Later After the Outbreak**

**Teresa's P.O.V**

I opened my eyes to the blinding white light. Blinking a couple times, I processed my surroundings. This room, this place was unfamiliar to me, and for some odd reason I had a gut feeling this wasn't good. I knew I had to get out of here.

In a fit of alarm, I sat up only to cry out in agony. I felt warm tears brim my eyes as I fell back down on what I realized to be a metal operating gurney, which was ice cold on my bare skin and through the paper like thin strips of material that covered my front and backside, but not my sides.

Then, I noticed them as I attempted to sit up again. Syringes. They were sticking out from the side of my arms and legs, and not to mention the sides of my head. Some sort of liquid flowed through the tubing attached to the syringes. I cried out in pain, yet again, but instead of falling back on the gurney, I wrenched them out, forcefully. The pain was excruciating, but I forced it back as every last one from head, arm and leg, was gone.

With the bloody syringes aside, I sat up and toppled off the gurney and onto the floor with a thud on my butt. I held myself for a couple of seconds as I willed the raw pain away from the syringes being stuck under my skin. My head especially ached.

After catching my breath, I struggled up to my feet like a new born fawn, to a window in the room. It was darkened in so only the person from the other side of the room could observe. I banged my fists on it in rage.

"Let me out!" I heard my unused, scratchy voice bellow. "I'm in here! Somebody please let me out!" I continued to pound on the two way glass, but found that my cries were in vain, and my throat was becoming raw from screaming my lungs out.

No one could hear me, or they didn't want too.

But, I didn't let that get me down. Looking around, I found a door, which could only be opened with a keycard. I walked back over to the gunnery, and picked up one of the syringes. If my calculation were right, I'd be out of here in no time.

Approaching the door, it was now or never. I inserted the syringe into the slot that the keycard was supposed to go into. It took a couple times to get it right, but by my third try, it was open. I smiled to myself.

I was free, or so I thought.


	2. Chapter Two:The City

**Bring on the Dead**

**Chapter Two:The City**

**Rodrick's P.O.V.**

Two months Rodrick had been locked up in the house. He had boarded up all the windows and doors to insure none of those things that roamed about outside could get in. So far it was working.

The only time he would go out would be to scavenge for supplies such as food and water. He would most of the time do this in the day, because that seemed to be the time the undead were less likely to roam in large amounts. Rodrick had learned to stay in at night, because the neighborhood would be crawling with them, the undead or zombies if you preferred to call them.

One night, a couple days after the outbreak, he had witnessed a survivor trying to escape the neighborhood at night through the cracks between the planks of wood nailed to the window. He didn't know where the man was going, but by the time he passed the Heffley house, the undead were onto him. A group of maybe four or five, came at the man. The man freaked, shot at a them, only to have shot and missed the head. Rodrick had learned from his first encounter, that destroying the brain would kill them. The five surrounded the man, he started running, and shooting a few more shots behind him. This was fruitless, because the sound from the gun had stirred the attention of more undead in the surrounding area.

Least to say, the man was doomed to be eaten to death, and he knew it. So, rather than be eaten alive, the man put the gun to his head, ready to end his life.

Nothing happened.

The gun had ran out of ammo. The dead were on top of him by this time, and one, a little kid of about Manny's age, was taking a bite out of his forearm. Rodrick had too look away. What if Manny or Greg were out there somewhere like that? What if Rodrick ran into them? Would he have the guts to put them out of there misery?

The man let out a bloodcurdling scream of terror, and then, there was nothing, but the noises of the undead feasting and fighting over the man's body.

The next morning, when Rodrick went out to scavenge for supplies, he passed the man's body on the sidewalk close to the Heffley house. Even if the face was beyond recognition, Rodrick knew the man as Coach Malone, the gym teacher at Westmore Middle School. His dead, clouded eyes stared vacantly up at the clear blue sky, and his mouth was frozen in a silent scream. The gun, the coach had been using, still in his hand.

Rodrick shook his head, looked away, and fought the urge to throw up his breakfast of cold chicken noodle soup. He knew what he had too do to prevent the coach from becoming one of the undead. So, taking his baseball bat, which he took with him on every scavenge, he closed his eyes bringing it up over his head for a blow, and aimed for the head.

"I'm sorry this happened to you." Were Rodrick's last words, before finally, bringing the baseball bat down.

Till this day, Rodrick had nightmares about bashing the dead coach's head in. It hadn't bothered him as much as all the other kills, maybe it was because, he had known the man.

Today, had happened to be one of those days that Rodrick needed to stock up. He was on his last cans of canned food, and his water supply was dwindling soon there would be nothing left. Walking out the door, after taking the boards down from the front door, he made his way down the sidewalk toward the city, aluminum baseball bat on his shoulder and backpack on the other.

**Teresa's P.O.V.  
**

The place I happened to be in was a hospital.

Shivering, I tightened the doctor's coat, that I had found in the room beside the one, I was trapped in, close to me. It wasn't cold in here, but I had this strange feeling that something wasn't quite right here.

For starters, I hadn't seen a person in sight and all that could be heard was dead silence. This made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

Where was everybody?

Sidestepping over a fallen gurney, I came upon three corridors going left, right and straight ahead. On the floor in the middle was a familiar red and blue symbol. It stirred something inside me, and made my head hurt when I tried to remember where I had seen this symbol before. I whimpered in pain, gritting my teeth to try and get rid of the pain that felt like tiny pen pricks being embedded in my brain. I held my head, closed my eyes as what I thought were bits and pieces of memories flashed before my minds eye.

The symbol was for a giant, worldwide corporation called Umbrella. I don't know why the name struck fear and loathing in my heart, but it did.

After the pain from remembering had subsided, I checked out my options. To the left was more hallway that stretched out for what seemed like forever. Straight ahead, didn't seem like an option, but to the right, I caught the sight of light.

Walking in that direction, there was still nobody in sight. No doctors to stop me from walking out, nobody. I felt as if I was the only living human being around. Something told me in my mind that I was right. This thought chilled me to the very core.

Something wasn't quite right here.

At the end of the corridor, I ended up in the lobby of the hospital. I hurried forth, toward the glass doors of the hospital, which had bullet sized holes in them. Cautiously, I opened the glass door to feel cool wind hit me in the face, and blow my light brown hair out of my electric blue eyes. The sun shined down casting shadows. I had no idea what time of day it was.

I gasped, taking in my surroundings.

The city. Whatever city I was in was in shambles. Buildings were deserted and appeared looted. The street were littered with trash and filth. Cars were either abandoned with their doors open, or burned out shells of themselves. Something inside me told me I had too get something to defend myself, and find a safe place out of sight.

Being careful not to get glass stuck in my feet, I walked over to a police car not too far from the hospital. I searched inside for anything of use. I found a nightstick and a semi-automatic pistol. In the glove compartment, I conveniently found more rounds, which would last for awhile.

After checking to see if the gun was loaded, I began to walk, not really knowing where I would end up.

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**Author's Note: I will try and update again, but with college coming up, I don't know when. I hope someone enjoyed this chapter and this story! Please provide me with feedback! Nobody likes a Silent Reader!**

**P.S: Rodrick and Tessa will most likely meet in the next chapter.**


	3. Chapter Three:I Don't Know

**Thanks to the ones who have subscribed and the one reader, DanTheZomble for commenting on this story! Your comment made my day! I know my crossover pairing is unusual! Lol**

* * *

**Bring on the Dead**

**Chapter Three : I Don't Know**

**Rodrick's P.O.V.**

Sneaking around the corner hidden in the shadows and feeling a bit cliché, Rodrick screened the buildings around him - no signs of undead from what he could make out, but that didn't mean there weren't any of them around. These things - he had grown accustom to calling, zombies could sneak up on you before you could acknowledge it, or much less do anything about it.

But, that's if you had bad reaction time.

Most of them were slow, but sometimes they would surprise Rodrick with their speed when they wanted to sink their rotten teeth into and make a meal out of you. Rodrick Heffley had made a habitat of looking back behind him to make sure a zombie didn't have a chance to do so.

Just then, Rodrick's eyes caught something from the corner of his eye down the street beside him. Squinting his hazel eyes, Rodrick found himself looking at a girl about his age walking down the street with a nightstick in one hand and gun in the other. As she got closer, he could see she was dressed in a doctor's white lab coat, which was held tightly to her body. The brunette's hair was swept to one side of her head, but the other side looked as if it had been shaved. The hair had grown back quite a bit, all except for the place where two tiny puncture wounds were.

Rodrick wondered what had happened to her.

At this point, Rodrick knew in his heart that she wasn't infected, but still he walked up to her - cautious of how she would react to him. She had this lost look in her blue eyes that told him it would be wise to do so. He didn't want to be clobbered to death by this girl with a nightstick, or shot in the head for that matter. Rushing people, most of the time in a crisis like this, didn't go too well, especially the survivors who were still in shock.

Once, she caught sight of him, she held her gun up. Rodrick put his hands up, slowly after putting down the aluminum baseball bat to show he meant no harm, and most of all that he wasn't one of those zombies. Cutting her eyes at him, she had a look as if she was battling herself subconsciously to trust him or not. He feared she might pull the trigger at first, but her arm dropped to her side. She nodded her head for him to get his baseball bat, and he walked to up to her after doing so.

"Are you alright?" He asked, scanning her body for any signs of infection. Everything looked good. She wasn't too bad of a looker either, he thought subconsciously before brushing it away. He shouldn't be thinking like this, he just met her!

She said nothing back, just looked at him with those lost eyes. Rodrick moved forward, she moved back a bit and looked down at her bare feet.

"You don't have to worry, I won't hurt you," Rodrick reassured her, moving forward step by step, slowly.

She shied away again like before- still didn't glance up to look at him.

"Look, I'm trying to find food and water; do you want to help me find some?" He asked as if he was talking to his little brother Manny. "You sure do look like you need some clothes."

There was silence. Rodrick was afraid that those things would come wandering out to find them out in the open. He needed to find some supplies and get back, but this girl was making it hard. He couldn't just leave her.

Just when he thought she wasn't ever going to reply.

She surprised him.

"W-w-who are you?" she asked, softly as she looked up at him with those big blue eyes of hers, which reminded him so much of a clear blue sky.

It took him awhile to reply.

"I'm Rodrick Heffley," He replied, putting a hand out for her to shake, "and you?"

She stared at his hand for a moment before putting her gun away in one of the pockets of the doctor's coat to shake it. Her hands were cold, but soft against his dry callused hands. It was a brief hand shake. She pulled away first, fast looking away from his expectant stare.

"I don't know," she said in a whisper so inaudible at first that Rodrick had to lean forward to hear. She looked back up at him to meet his stare. "I...I don't . . . know."

Then, all too sudden, the girl groaned in pain with her face constrained. She fell to her knees in a heap, nightstick falling from her grasp on the hard asphalt. It rolled a few feet away as she placed both hands to her head. Rodrick fell to one knee in panic, not knowing what was happening to her. One minute, she's fine and the next, she's on the ground on her knees.

He looked around him to make sure no zombies were around - none at the moment, just the caw of some crow somewhere far off in the distance and the rustle of long abandoned newspapers.

Rodrick knew in his heart, he had to get her out of here.

**Teresa P.O.V.**

The pain was excruciating. How could one question make my head pound uncontrollably? I was sure that the boy in front of me named Rodrick was freaking out. He kneels down on one knee, takes my hands away from my face and whispers soothing words to me, surprisingly.

I clench my teeth. The waves of pain wash over me, and then, the flashbacks start. I tighten my grip on the boy's hand, which makes him wince in pain, but he keeps holding on. With his other hand, he rubs my back, which seems to be calming me down a bit.

He then, helps me to my feet, anxiously. "We need to get you outta here," he whispered, looking around with those hazel eyes of his.

Rodrick takes my hand in his and we begin our walk out of the city.

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**Sorry, if Tessa's point of view of short, but that's how it ended up. Sometimes I get stuck in Rodricks, and don't get much for her's, but any who, I hope my readers enjoy this chapter and I'll be updating again after this one! If you want to see the whole banner for this story, I have it and the story on . It's not to hard to find! You'll get more insight for what my main character Tessa acts and looks like.**

**P.S.: My username on is Kickass Alice. If you sign up, feel free to add me and read some of my other Fan Fictions I have posted up!**


	4. Chapter Four: Conversation and Cold Soup

**Bring on the Dead**

**Chapter Four : Conversation and Cold Chicken Noodle Soup**

**Rodrick's P.O.V**

Rodrick has managed to get the mysterious girl to his house, which came willingly. The whole way back, the girl kept looking around guardedly, and she would tighten her grip on the gun, pointing it all around her. It seemed to Rodrick, that she knew of the catastrophe that had struck not just this town, but the whole entire world.

The girl once inside the house stood awkwardly in the living room. Her gun was no longer drawn, but one hand was posed there just encase it needed use. Rodrick on the other hand, rummaged about in his parents room, trying to find something for the girl to wear. It looked like his mother and she were about the same size. He was pretty sure she was cold in just that lab coat.

Once, he had found her something to wear, he came back into the living room to see her looking about at the way he had boarded up the house to keep the undead out. He walked up to her, handing her the clothes, which she gladly took with a nod of the head. He showed her to the bathroom, where she changed.

A few minutes later, she emerged in the outfit he had picked out for her. There was a ping of sadness as Rodrick looked up to see her standing there with that same lost look in her clear blue eyes. He thought of his mother right away. He remembered her wearing that same exact outfit.

God, where was she, now?

"Are you hungry?" He asked, trying to rid the sadness away.

"Yes, I am," she said, softly.

As the girl ate, Rodrick sat at the table across from her. He couldn't stop staring at her. There was something definitely strange about her.

"So, you don't know your name?" He asked as she took a big bite of cold chicken noodle soup. It looked like to Rodrick she hadn't eaten in days.

She shook her head as she swallowed. Then, she looked up at him, and said, "No, it's strange. I can't remember anything before this. All I remember is waking up in the hospital."

"Why were you in a hospital?" Rodrick asked, astonished. He had heard back when the infection hit that the hospitals were the worst place to be. "Aren't hospital's the worst possible place to be? You sure were lucky when I showed up, or else you would be dead meat -eaten alive by zombies."

"So, that's why the city was deserted?" She mused after gulping down some water from a water bottle. "I thought something wasn't quite right here."

"How long have you been out?" He asked, eyebrows rose in disbelief at her question.

She cocked her head to the side in confusion and said nothing.

"Seriously, you've been out for that long?"

She nodded her head. "How long has it been?"

"Two months by my calculations," He replied, sitting back in the chair at the kitchen table, which was an array of cans, bottles and other assorted trash. Rodrick had never been the one for cleanliness, and since the world had gone to shit, he didn't see the need in cleaning up after himself. He put his hands behind his head, and propped his feet up on the table.

The strange girl made no remark for him to take his feet off the table much like his mother would've. She just kept spooning chicken noodle soup into her mouth. It stayed like that for a while with him just sitting back and watching her eat.

After a while of complete silence, the girl asked, "Where can I sleep?"

"There's my brother's Greg's room and my parents' room, but I seriously doubt you'd want to sleep in my little brother's room." There was a since of sadness in his voice when he mentioned Greg's name.

She looked up at him, giving him a sympathetic look, and asked, "What happened to him?"

He looked up at her, taking his feet off the table and hands from behind his head. "I don't know. See, I've been trying to find him, my parents, and younger brother, Manny ever since the shit it the fan. Every time I go out into the city, I search for them. I am just afraid that one day I will, and it won't be too pleasant." He sounded so defeated like he'd lost all hope for ever finding his family.

The strange girl leaned forward, taking one of his hands, which was laid on the tabletop, and took it in her rather small, soft delicate ones. "We'll find them, Rodrick – together." She gave him a small smile, glancing up at him.

Rodrick wanted to believe her. But, what could this chick that didn't know jack shit know about surviving in a world where it is kill or be killed?

**Tessa's P.O.V.**

That night, I lay in bed, tossing and turning. Drenched in a cold sweat, I battled myself to open my eyes as bits and pieces of memories flashed before my mind like a dream. My eyes felt like they were glued tightly together. I wanted to scream out for Rodrick, but I couldn't find my voice. My head ached more than before with the same pen prickling sensation that renders me to hold my head in protest. Mouth dry, I fought against the sensation as the memories flooded my mind. This time they weren't detached pieces, they were full length memories of what had happened before I woke up in the hospital in the middle of nowhere.

This was what happened back in Raccoon City a few months back.

_The dead were all rising._

_ I was frozen in fear as every man, woman and child before me in the streets of Raccoon City ran for their lives in pure terror as the ravenous monsters called the undead, chased down and devoured them. In horror, I watched as a woman was dragged down by two of those things. She glanced up at me, pleading for me to help, but I knew there was nothing I could do. This woman was already gone. Soon, she would rise again as one of those things. I had no idea what to do, so I did the only thing I could think to do - I ran for my life._

_ I had to find my sister. She would know what exactly to do in a crisis like this. After all, she was working for the Umbrella Corporation. There was something suspicious about all this. Umbrella, I felt for a long time was up to no good, and I had a feeling the day my sister agreed to take the job that she had suspected them of harboring a dark and deadly secret._

_ Running down the street, I tried to stay out of the way of any walking cadavers. The streets were already in chaos, and I knew that my life was on the line if I didn't find some place to hide, or at least find my sister, so we both could wait out the infection, which reanimated the dead, and made them feast on the flesh of the living._

_ Up ahead, I found myself coming up on a police station. A woman, who appeared to be uninfected, came running out the doors. She was brandishing a gun, turned and pointed it at me. I put my hands up to show I meant no harm, but her gun never wavered._

_ "Duck," she commanded, sternly._

_ I did. _

**BANG!**

_Her gun went off._

_ I came back up, glanced behind me to see one of the undead laying on the ground with a bullet hole in its head. I was breathing hard, and I turned back to thank this mysterious woman, but she was already walking away._

_ "Hey, where are you going?"_

_ She didn't turn, but spoke. "I'm getting out of here, and I recommend you do the same, kid."_

_ I ran to catch up to her. "Can I come with?" I was exhausted from all the running, and scared to death to be alone anymore in a time like the present one. What better way to feel protected than to be with a police officer._

_ Well, that's what I suspected, anyway. The woman was wearing a blue tube top and black skirt, which didn't seem to be reasonable for an Apocalypse. She sported combat boots and had her gun holster around her waist._

_ She turned to me, her blue eyes cold as ice and her short black hair framed her face. "You can, but don't hold me down." I followed suit, nodding frantically._

_ Relief washed over me that she was allowing me to tag along. "Thanks Miss. . . I trail off, hinting for a name._

_ "Valentine, Jill Valentine," she answered as we ran down the chaotic streets of Raccoon City with the sun setting behind our backs. _

_ Soon we would be alone in the dark._

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**Another update! Feedback, please my readers!:) Tessa is starting to remember what happened in Raccoon City! **


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